Emma, Interrupted
by fictorium
Summary: When Mary Margaret walks in on Emma and Regina, the result is a little more than embarrassment.


"Did you hear that?" Regina looks terrified, and Emma feels bad for a whole second before stifling a laugh.

"Stop being paranoid!" Emma tries to distract her with another heartfelt kiss, since Regina broke off the last one. "I told you, we have the place to ourselves. Now, Madam Mayor, surely you recognize that the whole point of a nooner is to be, uh, efficient."

"Oh, that's the point is it?" Regina says with a smirk. "And I thought it was because of how much you desire me, Sheriff."

"Which is only as much as iyou/i desire me," Emma argues, grabbing Regina's ass to make her point. There are times when Regina's arrogance needs just a little reining in, and luckily Emma has the skills to do exactly that.

Emma hesitates for a second though, because if she didn't know better she'd assume she did just hear the front door closing. But no, Mary Margaret can't leave school in the middle of a class; even when she had the flu she struggled into work every day and made it right through to the final bell. It's kind of hardcore in her own, sweet way.

"Yes," Regina finally agrees, her tongue darting out over her bottom lip in that predatory way that makes Emma's knees a little weak and her head spin a little bit harder. "In fact, I desire you right now, if that's what you need to hear. Shall we?"

"We shall," Emma mocks gently, reaching for the hem of Regina's dark gray sweater and tugging it off with a lot of enthusiasm. She's rewarded by Regina's nimble hands reaching for the buttons of her jeans, and somewhere in the midst of undressing they greet newly exposed skin with caressing fingers, and mouths that kiss and lick and nip gently in turn. They're stumbling back onto Emma's bed, half-dressed and more than halfway to getting laid, when-too late-Emma hears the footsteps on the stairs.

Even if she could react quickly enough (brain freeze at the worst ipossible/i time) there's the small matter of stopping Regina once she has her mind set on something. It's a lot like waving a hanky and hoping it will stop a runaway train, especially given the way that Emma's own stupid traitor of a body is reacting to Regina's every touch.

"We have to-" Emma is choking out as the door handle turns. Regina looks up in surprise at Emma's words? At her tone? Either way, she isn't looking at the door, and it means she's completely unprepared for the "oh, shit!" that announces Mary Margaret's presence.

Emma's not sure which is worse-that they got caught, or that they drove Mary Margaret to cursing. She grabs at the sheets, almost shoving Regina off the bed in her haste to cover them both up.

"I should, um, go," Mary Margaret says, blushing so furiously that Emma thinks she might have created an entirely new shade of pink. "Emma, I'm so sorry."

And if she's sorry for walking in on them, or just sorry for Emma's choice in sexual conquest, there's no way to be sure. What is sure is that Mary Margaret can't seem to step away from the open door, and she's staring at Regina now in something between confusion and outright horror.

Emma reaches for Regina's face, tilting her jaw until they're facing each other, and in that moment she believes every stupid fairytale about an Evil Queen. The look on Regina's face is blinked away as soon as she sets eyes on Emma again, but the image of pure, unbridled hate is already scorched into Emma's memory.

"You." Mary Margaret sounds so different as she speaks the word. It's an accusation, almost a threat. Emma turns back to her roommate in surprise, and wonders why the mild-mannered schoolteacher looks so unbelievably angry.

"Can we help you with something, Miss Blanchard?" Regina has her sickly sweet Mayoral voice on, but Emma can hear the strain in it. It's especially ridiculous given that Emma is currently propped up on her elbows while Regina, in just her bra and skirt is straddling Emma with a blanket draped over her like a cape.

"That's not my name," Mary Margaret says, actually stepping inside the room. She shakes her head, like she just walked through a cobweb. "Is it, Regina?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Regina says, trying to sound bored. But there's something desperate in the way she's gripping Emma's hips, now.

"My name-your Majesty-is Snow White," Mary Margaret declares, standing up straight and staring Regina down. There's nothing meek about her now, and Emma is actually stunned at the transformation. Is this some kind of psychotic break? Mary Margaret doesn't let up, though. "I'm sure you didn't forget my name, even after all this time. Did you? Not the woman who raised me after my own mother died."

Regina scrambles backwards off Emma, clumsy enough to bruise and backing against the closet like a cornered animal.

"No," Regina spits. "You've been spending too much time with Henry."

Emma crawls off the bed now, glad she still has her shirt (mostly) on, and hastily rebuttoning her jeans. She moves towards Regina, who doesn't even seem to see her.

"Emma," Mary Margaret warns. "Get away from her. You have no idea what she's capable of."

"Yes, I do," Emma says, changing her course and taking Mary Margaret's hand instead. "But I don't think you're feeling very well, sweetie. Maybe you should go lie down, and I can call Archie, hmm?"

"I'm not crazy," Mary Margaret states quite calmly. "But Emma, you don't understand."

"Miss Blanchard," Regina says from behind Emma, sounding much more put together now. Sure enough, Emma turns around to see the typically haughty Regina, hands on her hips and pure defiance, even half-dressed. "I think you should listen to the Sheriff. I wouldn't want her to have to arrest you, for your own safety."

"Hey!" Emma protests. "Now, wait a minute. I'm not arresting anybody right now."

"Certainly not when your badge and handcuffs are on the floor," Mary Margaret points out. "Next to what I can only assume is iher/i thong."

"Hey!" Emma protests even louder. This is so not her day.

"Emma, darling," Regina murmurs, moving closer and wrapping her arms around Emma's waist. And Emma is a little bit mad at herself, but she leans into the unexpected affection and enjoys it. Regina's been keeping their terrible idea of an affair behind closed doors for months now, and Emma's surprised to discover how invested she's become in this maybe being something more than angry, amazing sex. "She's clearly a threat to herself. But more importantly, to me. Don't you want to keep me safe?"

"That's my job," Emma agrees, feeling a little dizzy from the heat of Regina pressed against her, and it really doesn't help matters when Regina nuzzles (Regina. inuzzles/i.) at Emma's hair and presses a firm kiss on her jawline. Emma's so turned on from the contact that she almost doesn't see Mary Margaret launching herself across the room at them.

"Not my daughter, you bitch!" is all Emma catches of the rant before she ducks out of Regina's grasp and takes Mary Margaret down in a restraining hold. Mary Margaret fights it, squirming against the floor and Emma's grip like a woman possessed, but Emma's known how to look after herself for a long time now. She looks up at Regina, not exactly thrilled with the smirk of victory she sees looking back at her.

"Thank you," Regina sighs, picking up her sweater (and yes, her underwear too). "My hero," she adds, the two words dripping in enough sarcasm to drown a person.

"Come on, Mary Margaret," Emma says as soothingly as she knows how.

"Make sure you give her a nice cell," Regina says with fake concern.

"I'm not arresting her, Regina. I'm taking her to the hospital; jail diversion is way more appropriate."

Regina sneers, but decides not to fight it. "Make sure she's securely held. I want to be able to sleep safely in my bed."

"Let me go, Emma," Mary Margaret pleads, still radiating anger as Emma pulls them both back to standing.

"I can't," Emma says. "It's for your own good. Regina, can you lock up on your way out?"

"Of course, dear," Regina says, reaching for Emma's keys. "Be sure to get Miss Blanchard the care she needs."

Emma takes off then, almost dragging Mary Margaret down the stairs and out of the apartment. They're practically wrestling by the time Emma throws the smaller woman into the passenger seat of her Bug. With a quick glance to make sure Regina isn't out yet, Emma bends over to whisper something that will hopefully calm Mary Margaret down.

"I believe you," is all she says.

"You do?" Mary Margaret replies, looking suspicious. "Or are you just humoring me until I'm locked in an asylum somewhere? Or maybe Regina's fancy house has a dungeon? Her castle certainly did."

Emma sighs, handcuffing Mary Margaret to the door handle before jogging around to the passenger side and gunning the engine to get them in motion.

"I wish I didn't believe you," Emma confesses as they pull out onto the main street. There's no sign of Regina in the rear view mirror, but knowing her lover's deep-seated paranoia means they can take nothing for granted. It's already been a superhuman effort to get out of there without Regina openly suspecting Emma. "I mean, it's crazy. But I saw how Regina looked at you. How she freaked out when you said your, um, your name?"

"She's evil, Emma."

"Maybe," Emma concedes, but she can't drown out the flickering memories of Regina's smiles, and the times they've fallen asleep together, or the way that Regina tries to reach out to Henry and be a better mom. It feels like Emma's head is going to explode, and she has no idea how to reconcile the two.

"Where are we going?" Mary Margaret (or Snow, or hell, Mom?) asks.

"Oh, we're going to the hospital. If we're going to figure this out, Regina has to think we're not on to her. What were you thinking, going up against her like that?" Emma doesn't want to think the worst of someone she's been sleeping with all this time, but there's always been a self-preservation streak in her.

"You try having your whole life come flooding back to you in an instant," Mary Margaret snaps. "See how good your decision-making is."

"Fair point," Emma admits, taking the turn for the hospital. "Man, this is too weird."

"We should talk," Mary Margaret says, sounding awkward again, almost like her old self. Emma makes a point of keeping her eyes on the road.

"We will," Emma sighs. She can still taste Regina's lipstick on her own lips. "But right now? We have bigger problems."

And that, she thinks, might just be the biggest understatement of her life.


End file.
